A/N: It's been too long! This chapter was hard for me, and I had to reorder a few things, but it finally came out. Thank you to NNP, Elianni, Complex Dream, lmamc, Kitty in the Box (your musings are great! These characters are headed for some much-needed development after their trauma),and Dizzy Willbeth for the reviews! Hope you enjoy this!

Chapter 16

"How does it feel, brat? Completing your first hunt?"

Geta felt the billow of a cape along his shoulders and his tail swishing freely along it as he turned to look at his father, the Ruler of All Vegeta-sei. He was the heir of a proud people and a noble line, and the reminder of this fact and the tradition he had just upheld caused him to smirk in pleasure.

"Next time, I'll kill twice as many," he promised as he rounded again to survey himself in the long mirror before him. He looked like a proud warrior, his father in miniature—garbed as the Crown Prince of Vegeta-sei, his clothing had been pristine, but the blood from his hunt was now smeared in obvious places on his face and arms—a show of the task he had accomplished, so that all Saiyans would know that their prince was a capable heir.

He was lucky to have gotten the chance; a hunt was not something that happened every standard year… Only if the conditions were right; if there were enough alien prisoners and enough Saiyan youths to participate, could it be celebrated. And as the Prince, Geta had an obligation to be the best—to slaughter the greatest number of prisoners before all who watched. He would never admit it, but he had felt just a sliver of nervousness when he lined up with the others, knowing that it was expected that he prove himself.

He was even less likely to admit it now that he knew he had had nothing to fear in the first place. No one had even come close to the massacre he spread on the field today.

"Tch, promises are worth nothing unless they are delivered." Vegeta's eyes were creased in pleasure, looking back at him through the mirror's reflection, a glimpse of the future. Geta could hear the pride underneath the hard glint of his eyes.

He hadn't disappointed his father.

He hadn't disappointed his…

"Geta!" called a familiar voice. The volume of the words wasn't loud, but Geta jumped and felt a dark lurch in the pit of his stomach as if whoever it was had bellowed right next to his sensitive Saiyan ears. It wasn't a threat, but the sound gave him an unpleasant twist of his gut all the same. He heard soft footsteps approach. "You did great!"

The voice was female and her speech was strange, Geta thought. He froze, some instinct within him telling him not to turn and face whoever it was. He didn't know why… but he knew the voice. His father cleared his throat impatiently and swiped at his shoulder.

"Face your mother, boy! She wishes to congratulate you," Vegeta snarled.

Mother? He felt his face screw up into a grimace and he felt revulsion at the very idea. He had no mother!

But he wouldn't disobey a direct order, so he spun around to greet the woman with the tolerance befitting his station.

The blue hair and eyes left him blank. What was this? He knew this woman, draped in robes of Saiyan royalty as if she had more right to them than Geta. Then, cold horror and disgust seeped into his blood.

"You bitch," Geta growled. He knew her, that slave woman who was ruining everything he knew and would have known…if not for her. She reeled back at his venom, her large eyes dampening with hurt.

"Geta…" she said softly, aghast. But that was all he had time to see before his father's hands fell on him, enraged. Without warning, Geta sailed into the mirror he had been admiring himself in, feeling a clean crack against his back.

"Vegeta!" The blue woman (she was no queen!) shrieked in protest.

"You will apologize to your queen!" His father bellowed.

"I won't!" Geta declared, outraged beyond anything he had every felt in his life. He scrambled onto his feet and his eyes again fell on his reflection in the shattered remains. But he was not himself…

Limp, pale hair and ice eyes stared into him in the ruined mirror, his father's farce of a queen behind him, her face disgustingly emotional and distorted in the cracks, crying out in panic as his father flew at him to teach him a lesson. But his own panic was strangling him what he was—the creature in the mirror.

"No—" he screamed—

Geta gasped in and his eyes jerked open in the regeneration fluid, arms flailing desperately and pushing against the resistance of the barely-dense substance. Where was he? What had happened?

Some non-Saiyan he had never seen before was eyeing him through the wavering glass of the Regeneration Tank as if he was the foreign and rather unattractive insect. Without much feeling, it turned to the panel as Geta thrust a fist at the barrier, silently demanding to be released. What was this? And where?

The liquid filtered out below the young Saiyan as he began to file through the last things he could remember.

And then the awful dream… the human woman. His half-breed brother's mother.

The sound of a snap came back and he remembered… his hands on her weakling neck. He smiled to himself in satisfaction. He had done it.

And then Prince Vegeta had found him. He and the half-breed, who had been training. Yes, that was what had happened.

He couldn't remember what came after that, though he tried to. He was sure there had been fighting because they both protected the slave woman from harm for years, and would have been angry to find her dead. But he had outsmarted them anyway and it was too late to save her. He couldn't help but smile more.

He noticed two things then: the room was cold and the sun was no longer red, so he couldn't have been on Vegeta-sei. He grimaced at the thought that he could have been beaten so badly that he was put out long enough to go off-planet. He hoped at least that his father had been the one to beat him and not the bastard slave. But where was he now?

Surely his father wouldn't have sent him away over the death of his blue whore? And even if the Prince of All Saiyans had wanted to, Geta was sure that the King, his grandfather, wouldn't have allowed it.

"Who are you?" Geta demanded immediately after he was released from the tank, watching the pale, bald alien imperiously. "Where am I?"

"Lord Frieza's ship," the alien grumbled dispassionately. He handed Geta a bundle of armor to wear. "Here's your uniform."

It wasn't much different from what he had been wearing before… but it was obviously the armor of a soldier and not Saiyan royalty. Lord Frieza's ship… his father had been sent on missions for Frieza, according to his grandfather. Was that to be his fate? Was he here on his first mission?

It wasn't a Saiyan hunt, but it was something new: maybe something he could make a name in before he returned to his home planet. Back home, they would talk of his victories, awaiting his return.

"Why am I here?" Geta asked, not to be deterred by the lack of interest the alien clearly had for his charge.

The alien snorted. "Ask one of the ones who brought you here, I was just told to watch you. I've notified them that you have recovered. You came from that monkey planet, didn't you?"

Geta reared back to hit him for such an insulting remark about his people, but an intervening hand crushed his wrist on the backswing, with effortless force.

"Watch it, whelp. Or I'll have to throw you back into Regen before you can answer your summons to Lord Frieza." He flicked a wrist as if swatting him away and Geta rammed back into a nearby table, hard. He was momentarily stunned by the power of the unseen soldier. Only Prince Vegeta could have tossed him that easily on Vegeta-sei. "And that would make Lord Frieza unhappy."

The Cold soldier was fat, pink, and disgusting. Geta was furious as he pulled himself up. "And why should I care about that?"

His impudence only seemed to make the gross alien widen his terrible mouth in excitement. "Oh, so you'll learn the hard way then? You'll learn. Put on your uniform and come on."

Geta did don the outfit, mostly because he didn't want to appear so undignified in front of the grotesque thing that would be escorting him. And his compliance may get him some answers as to why he was there at all.

The young Saiyan clone couldn't remember what had happened after he killed the Woman… but somehow, in the time between he did it and now, he had ended up on Frieza's ship with no memory of it. He remembered, how he remembered killing her so easily, before she even opened her eyes. But what came after that?

"How did I get here?"

The pink slug grinned horribly again. "The King of the Monkeys sent you here for Lord Frieza, as an offering."

Geta glowered, but remembered the crushing grip and minded his tongue. "My grandfather wouldn't have."

The alien looked confused, the grin slipping as he tried to think. "The Saiyan King is your father, innit? That dwarf, Vegeta? They say he killed his father right before we landed." It shook its too-small head, almost bothered. "Weird, how your kind does things…killing each other like that."

"I bet you kill all the time," Geta couldn't resist saying back.

"Yeah, but… not my own kind 'less they're trying to kill me." The alien chuffed a laugh. "No wonder Frieza wants you monkeys."

"Stop calling me that," Geta growled, but his mind was distracted with this piece of news… what had happened while he was unconscious? If his father had become the King of All Saiyans, then why was he here? And why had Vegeta chosen to take the throne now? His mind went into overload at the questions, with no one to ask or receive a proper answer.

Meanwhile, the big, ugly soldier laughed more. "Get used to it, I'd say. You're gonna need it." They came to a door that automatically shifted at their presence. "Here we go."

Geta refused to shiver, but their destination was large and empty, making it more frigid than the other places on the ship. At first, he was distracted enough by his surroundings that he didn't notice the Lord of the Cold Empire and the PTO. And then as if accidentally, Geta laid eyes on the (supposedly) most-menacing creature in the whole universe.

He was smaller than Geta would have thought… all pink and purple and white, clawed and strange-looking. Frieza's arms were tight muscle, not bigger than his own. The only thing that looked even halfway-scary was the tail. And the purple lips were unsettling.

This is it? Geta couldn't believe this was the guy running everything. He crossed his arms, born of habit, and worked to keep a neutral expression on his face. If he appeared unimpressed, he might end up in a battle with some nasty surprises. Strange-looking didn't mean weak.

Lord Frieza's lips curled upward with pleasure, although it didn't make him look pleasant at all. "Ah, so we're awake, are we?"

Awake and in an entirely different world…Geta remained silent, feeling as if the question was not meant to be answered. It was blatantly obvious that he was awake. And Frieza let out a hoarse laugh.

"Oh, you remind me so much of Vegeta! Not that sniveling thing his father left me with years ago."

Geta had no idea what was meant by that, but he decided to ask some of the questions he still puzzled over. "How long have I been in the tank?"

Frieza's lips pursed in mock-thought. "Oh, a fair amount of time for a beating, I'd say. Your father certainly was angry, wasn't he? You killed his bed slave?"

"She was a weak nothing," Geta said coldly. "She should have died sooner."

Frieza for a moment looked fairly satisfied by the cruel remark, but then he put a finger to his chin. "You know, now that you say that… I wonder if the Saiyan King had taken some care with this little slave, if she was as weak as you all say. Tell me, little simian, did your father have some great attachment to this weakling alien?"

The question was asked as if it was a mere throwaway question, but there was something else that Geta picked up on in Frieza's voice, some unknown malice behind it that set Geta on edge though he didn't know why. It was as if the emperor was looking for a threat, but that couldn't have been…not from that stupid woman? And the question itself was not just a throwaway for the Saiyan population. In truth, it was one of the great mysteries of Geta's life since he had known his father.

His father: obsessed with his own strength, glorying in it. Saiyans had no choice but to respect him. But also, an alien on the planet he was to rule: gone too long, his grandfather always said. Picking up customs that had no place on Vegeta-sei. Picking up weaklings and half-breeds and letting them live, but threatening Geta, his heir, and speaking of him like he was the misbegotten bastard.

Anger, rage coursed through him, a memory of the human woman's neck in his hands, but nothing more.

"She was a scientist," Geta said, not ready to admit anything more. "She helped him."

"Oh? And how did she help him?"

This level of curiosity was confusing to Geta… wasn't this Frieza, the unchallenged ruler of their universe? Why was he so concerned with Vegeta's relationship to the Woman?

"Why do you care?" Geta replied without thinking, the angry musings unguarding his tongue.

But that was the wrong thing to say.

A second later, all Geta could hear was the sickening crack of his own bones. He screamed, barely aware of himself, only the power behind the blow…

"Oh," Frieza said softly as he ground the boy further into the cracks of the marble floor to the symphony of his pained cries. "Such disrespect, it's no wonder your father sent you away. That will have to be trained out of you, I think. And we'll continue this line of questioning another time soon."

Geta knew then that his father had no chance against this being, no chance at all. It was all he could think beyond the excruciating force. And he wasn't trying. He wasn't even trying. "Please," Geta croaked, unable to stop himself.

"Dodoria," Frieza said conversationally, "I don't think this little beast is ready for me quite yet. Take him to be conditioned with some other foot soldiers. And after, I suppose he might need to be put back in the Regeneration Tank, but make sure he's improved at least somewhat before then."

"Of course," the Cold soldier smiled. "We'll take care of him."

He couldn't, though. Geta couldn't go on like this… he couldn't fight like this. He could barely understand what was happening in the midst of the agony. How… how could Vegeta given him over to this? Even if he hated him…

The emperor's eyes gleamed as he released his grip and Dodoria hauled Geta by his arm, causing him to scream pitifully at the rough motion. "I broke my last monkey toy, but I think you'll do."

VBVBVBVBVB

"We need to do more, for ourselves, not the PTO," King Vegeta said resolutely, his voice commanding everything in the room with his confidence and strength. It filled every crevice of the chamber as he addressed the generals for the first time as King of All Saiyans. "Now that Frieza has departed, only two regiments will remain in the capital, but the rest will be getting off their asses and proving to me exactly why the Saiyan Standing Army isn't a complete waste of space. And I expect all of you fools to lead by example and prove to me that this Council shouldn't immediately be disbanded in favor of a more… unilateral approach."

He had never wanted to be King. Vegeta had always had glaring disinterest in unseating his father's throne, even though it could have been done the moment he had returned planet-side. Even that night, when Bulma had been murdered, he had been forced to the brink and left with no choice. And yet, this was growing on him: all the times he had abstained from contributing his opinion because his father wouldn't properly execute his wishes. All the times he had mapped out his dreams for Vegeta-sei in his mind (not for the sake of his planet… no, just for the sake of his own goals), never giving them voice.

…all the times he had watched his father with disgust while the impotent King obsessed over things that didn't matter, did nothing with the Saiyan forces, and pissed away all opportunity for true improvement.

Finally, he was able to say aloud his vision, without any worry that it wouldn't come about. He was the King, and if he was forced to reap the drawbacks of such a position, so would he reap the benefits.

He looked around the table, noting their reactions and who was with him and who was against him. A fair few of their number seemed empowered and excited about the change in procedure and the new guard. Their eyes were determined and Lord Parnip looked as if he might rise from his chair and set to work before Vegeta even dismissed them. However, more members at that table than Vegeta liked, appeared tentative. One or two, possibly, seemed downright mutinous. That couldn't stand.

"This is our first rejoining," Vegeta said slowly, "so for this moment, it is my pleasure to be lenient with you and patient with your ignorance. I will take any questions, but this will likely be my only offer."

Immediately, the tension in the room was acknowledged and General Cauli rose to be heard. He was an older fixture, but had never had a problem with Vegeta or his wandering ways. He was an experienced Saiyan whose longevity had brought more open-mindedness to his opinions while also respecting the roots of his culture. He was, in a way, the middle ground.

"Firstly, my king, I would congratulate you on your rise. We all knew it was a matter of 'when' and I admit to being surprised that it took as long as it did." He gave a slight bow. "But I think perhaps, I will take advantage of this opportunity and ask how this came to be." He gestured to the other members. "Lord Frieza's arrival delayed this meeting, but since your rise, there has been no shortage of stories and accounts of what has happened. Your bastard and its mother have disappeared, your heir was sent to a Regeneration Tank the night your father died and then Lord Frieza took him. These are the facts, but the tale behind it has come in many forms, likely none of them the real story."

"No," Vegeta agreed curtly, taking lead in the conversation without hesitation. This was what he needed: it would not be like him to offer the information himself, but a Senior General asking for Vegeta's account would facilitate the official narrative. "And not that I must, but I will entertain the curiosity of this council to let one thing be clear: I acted as a full and honorable Saiyan Prince should act and no one can say otherwise."

He smiled wolfishly. "But I would welcome the opportunity to prove myself for any and all challengers to my throne that would suggest I do not deserve it." There was a round silence in the room and Vegeta continued. "I heard of Frieza's impending arrival to Vegeta-sei and decided that it wouldn't do for our people to have a show of weakness at the helm of our planet. So I did what needed to be done. The clone ended up in the Infirmary because he chose to get between me and what was mine. In my mercy, I spared his life."

"And then Lord Frieza took the boy as he took Prince Tarble long ago," Parnip interjected with a reminiscent frown.

"It's a show of loyalty that had to be paid, for now… and he will gain much-needed experience in combat. He was at the age where frankly, it was criminal to keep him on-planet, heir or not."

No Saiyan could disagree with that. Third-class children were sent away in infancy, but it was abhorrent for a Saiyan to reach the age of ten without making his first hundred kills on some mudball. It tasted like gall to refer to the clone as his "heir", even implied, but it had to be done to paint this picture.

"And when will Lord Frieza return the Prince?"

The unspoken question was whether the clone would be returned alive. Tarble had never been seen again. Vegeta didn't have to work to appear unconcerned.

"The brat is strong, unlike my brother was, he will return when he's of-age and hopefully, will return as less of an embarrassment to our race."

Privately and with a deep lack of mercy, Vegeta hoped the clone died as a Cold soldier, with all of Frieza's penchant for sadism. It was a fitting end for the little traitor after taking Bulma's life.

"And what of your half-breed?" Lord Cumber interjected. "We've heard it hasn't been seen since that night, nor the woman that whelped it."

Vegeta gritted his teeth as he grinned falsely, imagining what these Saiyans would think if they knew that Trunks had reached the power of the Warrior of Legend that was foretold. How their minds would turn and whimper!

"I told you the clone-brat took what was mine… that night while I was taking my throne, he killed my slave-woman, knowing I would be distracted. When I discovered it, I beat him to unconsciousness. He was very lucky that was all that I did."

"And the half-breed?"

"His mother is gone now, I don't have to worry about her annoying wailing about the brat. I've sent him to do my bidding, destroying faraway planets that Frieza pays no attention to, like any low-class Saiyan." Vegeta was sure many on this council would be surprised the boy got even that much, to be put in with a low-class when he wasn't even of pureblood. But they wouldn't be stupid enough to question it…

"He got off-planet just in time," responded Lord Cumber, after a beat. "Lord Frieza, when taking a son of yours, my liege… might have settled for your bastard."

The comment was meant to create unrest with the other members, if they believed the pureblood Saiyan heir was given up due to protective feelings Vegeta had for a half-human bastard and his weakling mother. Vegeta had fully expected it.

"Tell me, Cumber, how much time have you spent in the presence of the Cold Emperor?" Vegeta asked.

The Saiyan's expression tightened, likely anticipating embarrassment. "I haven't."

"Ah, so less than any third-class moron. How enlightening." Vegeta leaned forward in his seat with an assured air. "Having never met him before, can you guess what might have been done if I had offered Frieza a half-breed, weakling alien in place of a legitimate heir to the throne?"

"I—"

"He would have wiped out our planet for the insult," Vegeta snarled. "Do not tell me how to deal with the Cold Empire. I will get us out of this, and I will get us out alive, unlike my father."

Vegeta knew he could rely on the fact that the Saiyan lords and generals didn't deal much, if at all, with Frieza. Vegeta could sell whatever lie was necessary. Truthfully, Vegeta did know Frieza… and the truth was, the Cold ruler would have wanted the boy that it would cause the most pain for Vegeta to lose. It was a sick desire in the Ice-jin that couldn't be extinguished.

But Lord Cumber managed to rally quickly, unwilling to declare defeat with Vegeta. "That night, the night you took the throne, there was a power level… strong enough to be detected without a scouter and beyond all that has been felt before on Vegeta-sei. And that was you, my king?"

"Of course it was. Who else?" Vegeta asked arrogantly.

It set off a rumble at the table, among them all. Yet eyes were naturally drawn back to their flame-haired leader, who was claiming a power that felt almost unspeakable. Vegeta soaked in their astonishment with relish, building up the moment for all that it was worth. His voice boomed, silencing their mutterings.

"Most of you sitting at this very table laughed behind my back for training the way that I did, for relying on training tools developed by physical weaklings with genius intellect, for taking what I could from the planets I explored, and yet you could never see what I did, or become what I have…"

"What are you saying, my king?" General Cauli asked. There was no mocking or disrespect in his tone, but he had already read the hints Vegeta was dropping like they all had.

"You already know."

Vegeta slowly rose from his chair, locking eyes with Cumber and raising his ki, higher and higher and higher, watching their expressions bulge. His ki erupted around him in a fiery glow and some of them up and stumbled away in fear. "Hn," Vegeta grunted in satisfaction as he lowered his power level enough to still the air again. The Saiyan generals stared, not sure what they had seen. Vegeta had never fully powered-up before their eyes, nor against any opponent.

But they had really seen nothing. They hadn't seen Trunks, Vegeta's own son… his eyes electrifying into a more blinding blue, his hair cast into gold and the trill of the humming around him as it caused a pull of the air as if the world around him could evaporate into dust with his power. Vegeta's own power at this very moment was an ember next to it, a bitter truth to admit even to himself.

This was a bluff. One that had to stand to preserve the brat's life and the life of Vegeta's people as long as Trunks was gone. "I am the Legendary Super Saiyan," he declared imperiously. "And if I were to show you my full power, you would all cower in fear, running to any available corner to escape the presence of my destruction!"

Vegeta looked around at their open-mouthed awe, knowing he had to keep this fear in them to properly sell the lie. "I allowed my father to see my true form, giving him the honor of dying by the Legendary." He smirked again. "It was a final gift to my King."

It was several long moments before any of the Saiyans had the nerve to break the silence. And naturally, it was the smarmy Lord Cumber that did. "So you have done what you said all along that you would do, my liege. If that's so, why are we still under the Cold Empire's thumb? Couldn't you defeat Lord Frieza now? Couldn't you have defeated him when he was here?"

"No," Vegeta sneered. "Make no mistake, I will tear Frieza limb from limb. But only once he thinks he's safe, once he thinks that the Saiyans pose no threat to him. Then, when he least expects it, I will come for him. But not before."

"When will that be, King Vegeta?" asked Lord Parnip.

He only slightly startled at the address, having always been "Prince Vegeta". Vegeta knew that he had invited questions, but he was losing his patience now. Especially with that question… Vegeta did want to lull Frieza into a false sense of security, and handing him a hostage (or so Frieza thought) would go a long way with that. Vegeta's father may have protected his eldest son, by sacrificing the other, but he hadn't had the teeth or the plan to back it up. Vegeta, on the other hand, was going to be strong enough to do it.

This was why he was laying all of these pieces down in front of him—Trunks, Frieza, Bulma's little Science Department. The falsehoods were only temporary: Vegeta was certain he would make them a reality, if Trunks had the Legendary power within him, then it was his blood that resided it there. It had to be, because the legend was Saiyan. If the boy had to be the one to guide Vegeta to his ultimate destiny, then so be it.

"When the time is right."

A/N: Thank you for reading this Very Saiyan Chapter. It's interesting to write for a more political Vegeta, who still has screwed-up priorities, but is trying to function as a King. Hopefully, I'm able to bring these elements across to you. I'm hoping Trunks reappears in the next chapter (we'll see…), but Bulma at least made a small cameo this time. Let me know what you think!